The canal, this one, was dug at the turn of the century. Beneath the @3fondamenta@1 are the logs and mud of an incredible handshake. No sharp shadows are left. Buildings, dynamic yet so elusive they might be illusions, in winter light. Space unnatural? Over on the mainland, at Mestre, a redundant green wind, high whipping dresses against things. Cemented drain carries water on down toward the library but not quite that far. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org |